


Shower Scenes

by Cryelle



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M, Wilicia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryelle/pseuds/Cryelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Length: 1,300 words<br/>Setting: Switches between scenes set just after 2x23 ("Closing Arguments") and 5x17 ("A Material World")<br/>Status: Complete (one shot)<br/>Rating: R-ish for shower sex (it's tame, though)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shower Scenes

     Heat clung to Alicia’s skin like sweat. New York summers were legendary for heat waves, and now she understood why. Of course, it might’ve helped if they’d been inside. They  _could've_ stayed inside, in the ridiculously lavish, carefully climate-controlled suit, but the stars, the night, the balcony had been too tempting. Granted, they hadn’t necessarily been tempting _at first_ , but Will was nothing if not a good salesmen.   
    “The stars,” he’d murmured into her mouth.  
    “The light pollution,” she’d countered. “The voyeurism.”   
    He’d tried a different tack. “Come on, Alicia,” that wicked smile sliced his face, “Where’s your sense of adventure?” He moved a little. She moaned softly. “Your sense of daring. You only pretend to hate danger. But I know you. You _love_ risk. It’s why you’re such a great lawyer.”  
    “Flattery won’t get you any— any…”   
    “Flattery gets you _everywhere_ , Alicia. Well. Most places. Like the balcony.”   
    So there they were, bedclothes askew, couch cushions damp. She sighed, her head on his chest, his hand in her hair.   
    “We should shower.”   
    Will chuckled. “Why yes. Let’s shower.”   
    And before she knew what was happening he’d swept her up into his arms like a bride, headed for the enormous private bathroom.   
     “ _WIll_!”   
    And he gave her  _that look_ , that private little smile that made his eyes scrunch around the corners, and said, “Hush.”   
    She hushed.   
  
*   
  
    She let the water run as she stripped off her sweatpants, waiting for the room to fill with steam before she stepped in. It had been a long time since she’d taken a long shower, but what the hell, she’d shut everything else down, why not this, too? She reached the half-full wine glass perched precariously on the edge of the sink. For half a second, she considered placing it on the ledge of the bathtub, then thought better of it. She drained the glass, and set it back down a little more forcefully than she meant to.   
    The water was too hot, but she stepped in anyway, letting it plink against her skin the few seconds it took to cool as she turned the dial. Water soaked into her skin, her hair. She did not reach for the shampoo, or the fancy bath gel Ian had gotten her for Christmas. She stood there. Silent. Unmoving. Water. Water. Water.  
    Tears.

*

The travel-sized shampoo and conditioner bottles were elegantly curved and smelled sweetly, but not overpoweringly, of honeysuckle and jasmine respectively.   
    “Seven thousand dollars buys some great water pressure,” Will observed, lathering soap into his hair with one hand, the other tracing the curve of her midriff.   
    Alicia’s smile flickered. _Seven **thousand** dollars_ —  
    “Don’t do that, Alicia.” A hand cupped her face. “It’s good. It’s all good.” He pressed kisses down her neck and she closed her eyes. Honeysuckle and jasmine. Steam. Her back to the smooth, wet wall. His weight against her, within her. Soap ran down their backs. She opened her eyes, lashes heavy with water.   
    She breathed his name.  
    He breathed hers.   
  
*  
    She slid down the wall, the plastic squealing with her friction, and sat on the floor of the tub, legs curled into her chest. Warm water pelted her face, and she bent her head low to keep from breathing it in as she sobbed. Gooseflesh pimpled her arms and legs, anywhere the thin stream didn’t hit. She wrapped her arms around her knees and let herself shake, let the grief peel from her skin, ooze from her pores. Here, when no one was home and where no one could see it, she let her neutral mask fall away, let face contort and spasm with misery.  
    A hand shot up to seize the shower gel from the edge of the tub and ripped off the cap. Water mixed with the gel, causing it to jump and foam. She turned it upside down over the tub drain and squeezed so hard her nails turned white. As it poured down the drain, scent of wild honeysuckle rose around her, mixing with the steam.   
    Alicia’s shoulders shook. The empty bottle fell to the floor.  
    “Come back,” she whispered, water entering her mouth. “Just come back.”   
  
*

Alicia nearly fell on her face getting out of the shower. Water had run over the floor, pooling in shallow puddles. Will caught her by the elbow, steadying her. “This,” he said airily, “is why highest rate of household accidents happen in the bathroom.”   
    “You _would_ blame shower sex.”   
    “I don’t blame shower sex. I blame _careless_ shower sex, there’s a difference.”   
    “I see.” Alicia reached for a towel, enjoying its softness as she wrapped it around herself. “And you’re never careless.”   
    “Never ever.” He wrapped his arms around her, unable to keep his hands away, and began to rub his damp body against her, like a bear scratching its back on a tree.   
    “What are you doing?”   
    “Drying off.”   
    Alicia wiggled (though not convincingly) in his grasp. “Get your own towel.”   
    “Mmm… No. I like this one. It has a beautiful woman in it.”   
    Alicia pushed her lips forward. “Not for long.” She lifted her arms an inch, letting the towel fall from her form.   
    Will grinned. “How careless of you.” He snatched it from the floor, made a few quick passes over his body, and then unceremoniously threw the towel back to the ground.  
    “You planned that.” Alicia said, one eyebrow raised.  
    “I did. I’m very clever, you know.”   
    She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I know.” She kissed him.       
    His hands circled her hips. “And what else do you know?” he murmured between kisses.   
    “The capital of Uruguay.” Kiss. “How to make rhubarb chutney. “ Kiss. “The names of every judge in Cook County.” Pause. Her eyes were wide and soft. “That I love you. Will. I love you.”  
    A tiny shudder of pleasure, of victory, rippled through his face. He walked forward, steering her back to their room, back to the bed that only held sheets and a few pillows. He didn’t say anything as they toppled back into it, as they kissed and touched each other, but when he looked down at her, his body tangled in her body, whispered it with every thrust, with every breath. _I love you, Alicia. I love you. I love you. I love you._  
  
*   
  
    She stayed like that, curled at the foot of the tub, until the water was lukewarm, then cold. Everything was wrinkled – her fingers, toes, the bottoms of her feet. Her bones felt like paper as she stood, almost slipped. _This is why the highest number of household accidents occur in the bathroom_ , she thought. Grief. It made people careless.   
    Alicia grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped herself up tightly. Steam still fogged the mirror, but she could see her shape moving in it like a ghost. Without understanding why, she reached out with one finger, and traced the word _love_. Then, underneath, the word, _careless_.   
    She stopped just sort of adding Will’s name, and she drew her finger back, letting it rejoined the fist she was making. Careless. That’s what she’d been through all of this. She should’ve listened to everyone around her. Her mother. Her brother. Trusted in their _follow your heart_ spiel. Maybe then, she’d be happy. Maybe then, none of this would’ve happened.   
    She looked at her face, reflected in the two words she’d traced, then wiped them out with the palm of her hand.   
    “Mom?” Grace’s voice.  
    Deep breath. “Yes, honey?”   
    Uncomfortable silence. She could almost hear Grace shifting her weight. “Dad’s here.”   
    Alicia grit her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror, her mouth set in a thin, hollow line. “Okay, honey, I’ll be right there.”

She folded the towel mechanically shimmied back into her clothes before opening the door. Somehow, after all these years, she knew exactly what she wanted to say to her husband. She was finished with carelessness.  


End file.
